There was none of that
when I was younger
—just a star
over a little valley
and row boats
and row houses
and wheelbarrows
and watches
and chickens
and I love yous
and gargoyles
and sorries
and toothpicks
and engines
and smokestacks
and lampposts
and ice cubes
and torture
and silverware
and bookmarks
and no books
and eggplants
and knitting
and mothers
and the dog
howling to the
moon which was
a sliver of milk
on the tile floor.
